


i'll always look best in your head

by benditlikepress



Category: NCIS
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, I can't write OCs so I can only apologise for the FBI agents, Late Night Conversations, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: A week-long stakeout with the FBI tests Tony and Ziva's patience and forces them to confront some truths about their relationship.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	i'll always look best in your head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowersofhope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersofhope/gifts).



> Title is from drown by marika hackman   
> There are a few changes of POV between Tony and Ziva but I think they're easy to follow, I hope so 💘 my proofreading of this wasn't the best so I apologise for any mistakes!!  
> I think we should invent a drinking game. Every time I reference the secret summer of sex in a fic, you drink.

"I hate stakeouts."

"Thanks for that, DiNozzo, it didn't sink in the first 99 times you said it but now I feel like we really understand each other." 

The door clicked open as he spoke, but Tony was too distracted to look. After what they’d been through for the last ten hours, he couldn’t believe the gall of the man to criticise his speech patterns.

"Oh I'm sorry, Good Will Hunting, did you have another fishing anecdote to share?" 

"Tony." 

He turned, finally, to where Ziva was stood holding a paper bag with a tired expression. "What did _I_ do?!" 

"None of us have got a full night's sleep in days. Can we just have some peace and quiet?" 

"Fine. But next time I'm coming with you." 

"2 federal agents with eyes on the building at all times." 

"That's just swell, Joey, thanks for volunteering yourself for food runs." 

FBI Supervisory Agent Joseph Monkton made a noise of derision before practically snatching the sandwich Ziva offered him, barely acknowledging the look of fury she offered him in return. Tony patted Ziva’s seat next to him and raised his eyebrows in encouragement but she tipped her head towards the sofa bed at the back of the room and sat down at it. He didn’t blame her. She hadn’t taken a real break in the ten hours of this shift so far. If two of them didn’t have to keep one eye on the telescope overlooking the building across the street at all times, he’d lock himself in the bathroom to eat as far away from Monkton as far as he could.

A man who substituted all attempts at humour with an insult, that he gave with a nauseating guffaw. The fact that Tony and Ziva had spent close to 24 hours in shifts locked away in a tiny hotel room with him over the last few days without resorting to a murder of their own was, frankly, a significant achievement.

“Anything happen while I was gone?”

“3 people entered, all over the age of 80. A woman with a baby left.”

“Not exactly hitman material, but it takes all sorts.”

Ziva chuckled at Tony’s interjection. “The night is still young. There is plenty of time for him to show up.”

“C’mon, don’t say that. You’re setting yourself up to be disappointed.”

As they saw out day five of the stakeout designed to catch a serial killer who’d continued to visit the building after each murder, Tony had become less and less enthusiastic about the idea it was ever going to happen at all.

“So, Agent David.”

Tony could practically hear Ziva roll her eyes as Monkton drew out her name. “Yes?”

“A little birdie told me you used to be in Mossad.”

The daggers that were shot Tony’s way were even louder than the eye-roll. He lifted his hands in innocent protestation. _Technically_ , he’d told Monkton’s partner.

“Yes, I did.”

“You left that for NCIS?”

The confusion and condescension dripping in his voice was aggravating, and Tony did his best to keep quiet. God, he hated the FBI.

“Yes, I did. I thought that the organisation was better suited for me. I needed a change.”

“Alright, I guess that’s fair. I just..” Monkton chuckled, “I don’t know. I guess I don’t understand what kinda thing you mean.”

“I have learned a lot of things at NCIS. How to work amicably with others, for example. Even when their personalities are incredibly irritating and tiresome.”

“I’m sure that’s handy around DiNozzo, huh?” Tony chuckled sarcastically as Monkton elbowed him in the side. He knew the guy was doing it on purpose, but it was still hard not to rise to the bait. "You ever watch that show Wife Swap?" 

"If you’re suggesting I swap places with Agent Singh, then I’ll take whatever forfeit is on offer.” Tony shuddered at the thought of being paired with him full-time.

“C’mon, we’ve already seen the worst of each other right? If I can sit next to you for 12 hours and your cackling and movie references then we could work together for a couple of days.”

“ _Cackling_? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You, and your-” Monkton did what Tony supposed was supposed to be an impression of him laughing, sending bits of sandwich spraying over their immediate vicinity.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." The lack of patience in Ziva's voice was evident. 

“Yes, _please_.” Tony stood up and shook invisible bits of food off himself in disgust.

“What’s eating at you?”

“Nothing. It is just remarkable, really, that after five days you are still finding new topics of conversation.”

“The human Google, they call me.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, I’m _sure_ they do.”

“Tony..” His voice was whispered in a harsh tone and when he turned around, Ziva was making a silent gesture at him that the two of them should drop the conversation and move on. He was grateful of he and Ziva’s ability to understand each other without needing words, especially when there was already enough volume in the room.

The three of them settled back into work as they finished eating, Tony’s tired mouth struggling through the sandwich in a way that certainly wasn’t common for himself. He kept his gaze focused on the building opposite to avoid his eyes glazing over, tiredness stinging at their corners.

It was luck that the street was so well-lit by lamps, illuminating the view for all to see without needing much by way of night vision technology. It didn’t help alleviate the boredom, of course, and the silence only lasted a couple of minutes before it was interrupted by protestations.

“Are we even sure this guy’s gonna show up?” Monkton sighed against the telescope, pointed a little further down the street than Tony’s. “It’s been what – four, five days we’ve been sitting here and he hasn’t stopped by once.”

“He’ll come. He comes every time after he kills someone. It’s his ritual, right? I thought you guys were big on profiling at the FBI.”

“You watch too much TV. Besides, we haven’t got another body.”

“Exactly. Because he hasn’t been here for the last one yet. He’ll show up, we’ll finally have that proof, and we can arrest him and put him behind bars where he belongs.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. I’m sick of seeing that same old lady go in and out of that door 17 times a day. I thought old people were supposed to take it easy.”

“I’m sure if she knew a guy was watching her the entire time she’d be more careful.”

“You’re the one who should be careful, DiNozzo, making me sound like some kinda creep saying things like that.”

“Perfectly legal watching of her, of course.”

Ziva had got suspiciously quiet, and when Tony turned back to look at her on the couch he saw her eyes were closed and she seemed to be asleep, drink in hand. He thought about taking it from her, but decided the likelihood of waking her up was almost at 100%, and so turned back to the telescope.

Monkton watched the silent exchange.

“Asleep?”

“Never can tell with Ziva. Sometimes I think she just pretends to catch me up to no good.”

"She always sleep on the job?" 

"Never, actually. Awake when I go to sleep and awake when I wake up. Must be tired." 

"You guys do this often?"

"Eh, sometimes. Usually if it's anyone it's the two of us." 

“You guys have worked with the FBI before on these, huh? I’ve heard a little about you.”

Tony thought about a hotel room, in the dark, Ziva so young and energetic on top of him. He smiled to himself.

“All good, I’m sure.”

"I mean - hey, you get the bad guys. For most people, that's enough." 

"That's.. oddly diplomatic coming from you." 

"I didn't say I was one of them. I have questions, actually, about some.. techniques, you and David have applied over the years." 

"Wait, did you see that?" Tony diverted Monkton's attention back to the deserted building across the street while he did an instinctive check of his sleeping partner over his shoulder. 

He was still half-certain she was faking. 

"Hey, I get it. Close quarters, the excitement of a life or death situation. One thing leads to another." 

"If you're coming onto me, Monkton.." Tony floundered, oddly uncomfortable at his insinuations about their undercover mission all those years ago. 

"I'm just saying, who could blame you?" 

"Seriously - just. Stop talking. Now, please." 

"Alright, alright. Never had you down as a prude." 

“You think just because I don’t want to discuss my private life with the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B, I’m a prude? No, I just have better things to be doing. Like catching a serial killer, for example. Then maybe we can finally all get out of this damn hotel room.”

Incredibly, Tony’s retort seemed to work, and the room fell into real quiet for the first time in days as they both focused in on the building that had first captured their attentions all those weeks ago.

* * *

The silence was, like all good things, short-lived. The clock was winding down towards changeover time, and around an hour had passed when Monkton was about to launch into his fourth round of singing You Give Love a Bad Name to himself under his breath. Tony would never admit it out loud, but he was starting to sympathise with Ziva being stuck with him when he was in a more energetic mood.

“Please, Monkton. Please. I don’t have it in me to listen to you again.”

“Hey, you’re gonna miss me when we get out of here.”

“Oh, wanna bet?”

"Whatever, man. We need to wake sleeping beauty, it’s almost time for change-over.”

"Don't let her catch you saying that about her." 

"Why?" 

Tony smirked. "You really don't know much about us after all, huh?" 

“Y’know, maybe it would go down better coming from you. You wake her up.”

“Yeah, I thought so.”

Tony thought carefully about the best way to wake up an assassin on high alert, before gently touching her on the arm that lay along the side of the sofa. In a move that he considered a personal win, she only briefly went to draw a gun on him before registering who he was. Her face was a little pink from sleep and she rubbed her eyes.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long."

"You should have woken me up."

"No need."

"It is a stakeout, Tony, it is not exactly going to be successful if we are asleep."

"We were awake, no problem. Besides, you were in a bad mood. No offence."

"Offense stolen."

"Taken. You take offence."

“I just woke up, you are lucky I remembered to speak English at all.”

“Hey, can one of you guys come and help?” Monkton interrupted, and as Tony straightened his back to go and sit back down the door to the room opened and FBI Agent Singh entered carrying yet more refreshments.

“Nice evening outside.”

“We wouldn’t know.”

“Right. Sorry. I bought coffee.”

Ziva was first up, grabbing the coffee from his hands with a thanks and sitting down in Tony’s vacant seat in front of the window.

“So how’s everything been today?”

“Same old, same old. You alright to take over here?” Monkton signalled his seat and began to stand up.

“Just hold on a sec, I told the boss I’d stop in at their room down the hall and check in. I’ll be right back.” Singh rolled his eyes at himself, as though he’d forgotten, and disappeared back out of the door.

“DiNozzo, sit down. I need to go to the bathroom.” Monkton hopped out of his seat properly this time, making for the only other room they had access to. Tony sat down in Monkton’s seat and glanced through the telescope and the second the door closed, Ziva leaned across in her chair and sidled up against Tony. She dropped her voice.

“I am not sure how much longer I can put up with this.”

“Singh’s alright. Just put your earphone in on the side Monkton’s sat and focus on him. Send an SOS if you need help.”

“When you say ‘help’, you mean..”

"Y’know, destroying the evidence, hiding the body. Maybe our pal across the road can give us a hand, huh? Anyway, I'm headed home for the night. You guys got everything you need?" 

“Yes, that is fine. Would you mind taking this shirt and washing it? I want to get changed.”

“Sure.” Ziva pulled her shirt off over her head without ceremony and began pulling clothes out of her rucksack before settling on a fresh one. It was a sense of familiarity that Tony didn’t think anything of until Monkton walked back into the room just as Ziva pulled the new shirt over the bottom of her stomach and made a noise.

“I’m very flattered, but I love my wife.”

“Shut up, Monkton.” Tony winced his eyes, irritated, as he put Ziva’s old shirt into his bag. Thank god he’d not actually seen anything, he thought, or she wouldn’t hear the end of it all night.

Singh reappeared soon after, and Tony vacated his chair to let him sit down. He walked around the room gathering his things as Ziva’s eyes followed him, joking pleas for help in them.

“Alright, that’s me done for the night. Happy murder hunting. You want breakfast?”

“You think you can get those breakfast burritos we had a couple of days ago?”

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do.”

"And have a shower please, I cannot be locked up with you here any longer like that." 

"You aren't exactly smelling of roses yourself." 

"That is still you, Tony." 

"Ah. Copy that." 

* * *

Though it wasn’t quite as good a buffer as having Tony there, Ziva was grateful for the presence of Monkton’s partner Agent Singh overnight. He’d laugh at Monkton’s jokes, but give a glance at the rest of the audience to let them know he was humouring him. Ziva wondered how he managed to put up with that day in, day out.

Unsurprisingly, after an admirable couple of days her patience for him was wearing thinner and thinner with each passing minute. She wasn’t sure she’d ever met someone as irritating, who seemed to be entirely unaware of the effect he had on those around him.

Monkton had, thankfully, gone to sleep for about 90 minutes near the end of the night and Ziva had enjoyed the relative quiet that came along with it, exchanging the occasional comment or question with Singh while the two of them diligently watched the building and took notes. He woke up a little before change-over time, and when he stepped towards Ziva’s seat to allow her to take a bathroom break she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled the office. She updated Gibbs on the developments during the night (or irritating lack thereof), and then went to the bathroom to freshen up.

When she returned to the main room she sat down to call Tony, but unsurprisingly at this time of morning got his answerphone.

**"Hey Tony, it's me. Just checking in. Everything is fine here, so I will see you when you get back. Bye."**

When she hung up and pocketed her phone, she felt a strange silence in the air. Monkton and Singh were both looking at her when she looked up, with amusement and confusion in their eyes respectively.

“Problem?”

"You just saw him last night." 

"Yes, but I thought I would update him now we are set up for the day." He pulled a strange face, that made Ziva's shackles raise. "What?"

"No, nothing." The dismissive tone in his voice was characteristically smug, his expression matching.

"Tell me." 

"Are you guys dating?" 

"What makes you say that?" 

"Makes sense if you are. If not, then it's a little.." He pulled a face again, eyebrows raised. 

"A little _what_?" 

"Co-dependent." 

"Co-dependent? He is my partner.”

"Sure. Absolutely. But you did just update your boss 30 seconds ago, and the two of them are together, I assume." 

By this point Ziva’s patience was on a knife’s edge, and the cocksure ego dripping off Monkton’s expression thinking he’d caught her unawares was enough to send it plummeting completely. "What I say, and do not say, to my partner has nothing to do with you. I can update him however much I like with regards to case events, or the lack thereof, and if I want your input then I will ask for it. Is that clear?”

"Alright, relax. I was kidding." 

Ziva took a breath as she calmed down, counting in her head to preserve her energy. She knew her anger would be better channelled elsewhere, where the object of irritation didn’t seem to get some kind of enjoyment out of it. "You are right. Everyone is exhausted and just.. sick of doing this. There is no need to take it out on each other." 

"Exactly." 

She wasn't sure what Monkton had to be irritated about but nodded in a friendly way at him regardless. 

The two FBI agents turned back to their telescopes and Ziva enjoyed the brief moment of reprieve away from their prying eyes to stretch her arms above her head and continue deep breathing, the type of which she usually reserved for yoga rather than stress release.

When Ziva unzipped the front of her rucksack and went to grab some deodorant, she felt something paper attached to a package. She pulled it out slowly, and turned over what was a note taped to a bar of chocolate. 

"Eat in the bathroom with the tap running. Thank me later. T x" 

Ziva smiled to herself as she shoved the bar secretly into the pocket of her jacket, not sure when Tony could've found the time to sneak it in without anyone noticing. 

* * *

Much to Ziva’s delight, the hour before Tony’s arrival passed in relative silence. The stalemate, however, did mean that when he burst through the door all three of them almost jumped out of their skin.

“Gooood morning, federal agents.”

“God, finally.” Monkton hopped out of his chair and began to pack his things as Singh nodded at Tony over his shoulder. Tony checked his watch.

“I’m 5 minutes early!”

“I used to work with a guy at NYPD who said that if you aren’t 10 minutes early, you’re late.”

“That doesn’t even make sense. Why not just organise to meet 10 minutes earlier? Eh, whatever, I don’t care.” Singh cut himself off with a sigh and a hand through his hair.

Tony, ignoring their interactions, spun Ziva’s chair around to face him with a grin.

“I come bearing good news, Miss David. McGee’s on his way, so you can head home.”

“Really? Oh, thank goodness for that.” Ziva tipped her head back in relief as she stood up, shaking the stiffness from her legs. Ziva actually enjoyed a stakeout from time to time, but it was the locations more than anything else that tended to get to her as time went on, and the more she sat in this chair the more she was convinced her body was starting to mould to the cushions.

“So what excitement did I miss last night?”

She and Tony usually ended up manning the scopes and cameras, and had been inventing elaborate backstories for the usual crews they saw entering and exiting the building. 

"Shirley Temple stopped by." 

"Oh yeah?" 

"She had a poodle with her this time." 

"Amazing." 

Shirley Temple was in fact a woman in her 60s with the most fantastic childlike ringlets formed over her head, who invariably showed up throughout the day with a different breed of dog. 

“Where is she getting all of these dogs from?” Singh hadn’t been a part of the initial discussions, but had developed a fascination somewhere past hour nine overnight when Ziva told him the story.

“Maybe that’s the real mystery we’re supposed to be investigating this whole time.”

Ziva began to pack her things as Monkton did the same, the buzz of the opportunity to get outside and sleep for a couple of hours filling her head. When she bent down to pack her rucksack Tony approached her from behind. She smiled, relieved.

“Thank you for coming early, I was starting to go insane.”

"Yeah, that’s what I figured. That message you left for me, your voice sounded like you'd been taken hostage." 

“That is just what a night with these two will do to a person.”

Tony sidled up to Ziva and leaned against the wall behind her, arm in the air above her shoulders. 

"All of this, is it really worth it? I mean, me and you could just sneak out the back door and jump in a cab and head upstate. Live in the woods, no FBI."

Ziva's eyes twinkled brightly close to his face as she elbowed him in the side. 

"You think they would not come looking for us?" 

"Against me and you? I fancy our chances." 

"All the same, I think we should.." 

"Is this a private conversation or can anyone join in?" 

Ziva rolled her eyes at Monkton’s sudden presence over her shoulder. His hand was clutching his backpack and he was wearing a self-satisfied smirk. “Is that you done for the day?”

“You got it. Have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Monkton disappeared out of the door with that same strange smug expression. Tony frowned, and turned back to Ziva.

"What was that about?" 

"What?" 

"That guy's face." 

"You saw it too? He has been doing it all morning."

"Why?" 

"He made a.. comment." 

"About me and you?" There was interest more than surprise in Tony's voice. It happened more often than they'd admit. 

"And our co-dependency." 

That seemed to throw him, and he frowned a little in confusion. “What did he mean by that?”

“Oh, just.. I am not sure exactly, trying to find a way to irritate me.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes. But I was mostly there already. Do you have everything you need?” Ziva put her bag over her back and surveyed the swiftly developing disaster-zone of a room.

“Um. Yeah.” The distraction was still clear in Tony’s voice, spaced until he suddenly came back into focus. “Or wait, no. McGee. You can’t leave.”

Ziva sighed, and took her rucksack back off her shoulder.

* * *

Tony didn’t have to sit down at the telescope for long before McGee showed up to relieve Ziva. He and Tony had met up at the office that morning but McGee had been roped in to talk to the Director, and it was only on his way to the stakeout that he’d got the message that McGee had ended up being instructed to join in on the shifts. Tony had laughed to himself as he’d read the message, thinking back to the man’s smugness that morning as Tony signed away another 24 hours.

Still, he arrived bearing coffee and a good attempt at a warm smile.

“Finally got roped in, huh?”

“I don’t think anyone thought it would take this long.”

McGee went around delivering coffees and shaking Singh’s hand, the two of them having only met through extended phone conversations throughout the investigation so far.

“Huh. Looks a lot smaller on the cameras.” McGee said with a frown as he looked out of the window towards the building.

“Yeah, photographs will do that.” Tony’s voice was dripping with sarcasm that earned him a withering look from McGee and Ziva in turn before his partner hopped out of her chair.

“OK, I am leaving before I pass out. Have fun.”

“Yeah yeah, get outta here.”

“Thanks for the coffee.” McGee got a warm pat on his cheek as she brushed past him that made him smile even as she pushed past Tony and Singh picking up her bag and leaving without hesitation.

The three of them briefly watched her move out of the door before turning back to their watching stations. Tony, for his part, with his mind still on their previous conversation. 

"Ziva tell you where she was headed?" 

"Home to get changed, I think. Wash this room and Monkton off her. No offence." Tony directed at Singh, who smirked. 

"None taken, trust me."

"You're a braver guy than me putting up with him."

"You do actually get used to it, believe it or not." 

“Just like you, Tony, huh?”

“I don’t remember asking.”

"Gibbs is expecting her in the office." 

“You know Ziva, she’ll be there instead of sleeping.”

"Good, maybe she can help him with those cameras. It was painful enough trying to reach him how to rewind." Tony's mind drifted a little as McGee continued. He hated that he was thinking about Monkton, and what kind of snide ‘joke’ he’d make if he was here.

God, he needed to get out of this room.

"Do you think we're co-dependent?"

"Me and you?" 

"Me and Ziva." 

"Oh." McGee didn't answer, and when Tony turned to look at him his expression was a little sheepish. "I mean, not really?" 

"Don’t sound too convinced.”

"Well, no. I mean, co-dependency is a bad thing. Right? That's not you guys. I was just thinking about.." 

"What?" 

"Well, you kinda can't be without each other." 

The words were said so simple and matter-of-fact that it took Tony a moment to adjust to them. He heard the echo of them, all those years ago in a desert terrorist camp with McGee faking unconscious on the floor. The idea that it was true then, and it was true now, but he could say it with such simplicity. Repeating the words rather than feeling them. Not understanding the depth at which they were felt. Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever be capable of saying it in such a blasé fashion.

“Why do you say that?”

He knew he was deflecting away from the topic, but even the idea of discussing it felt a little off. He wasn’t sure it was something he could explain, even if he wanted to. For him, those words had had four years of weight behind them. To McGee, it was just a thing he said one time.

"Well, just..” McGee took pause and shrugged, finding his way around the words. “Like, when we first met Ziva, you used to flip out if I told her anything about your life. Even huge things. Now you practically tell her what you had for breakfast every day." 

"That's called _friendship_ , McLoner."

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe it is." McGee nodded and then frowned, putting an earphone in his opposite ear. “What made you think of that?”

“Monkton said it to Ziva. Called us co-dependent.”

“C’mon, DiNozzo, do you really need me to tell you not to listen?” Singh interrupted with an amused tone from the back of the room.

"Exactly. That guy is an asshole, Tony, he's just trying to get a rise out of you." 

“Yeah, seriously DiNozzo. It’s just because you guys are always whispering to each other.”

“Yeah, so we don’t have to talk to _him_!”

“Then why does it bother you?”

“It doesn’t. I guess I’m just..” Tony drifted off and shook his head, not quite sure what it was about it that was sticking so much in his head. Such a throwaway comment, prompting his brain to go into overdrive. Singh, not waiting for him to continue, laughed a little.

"Oh," he elongated the word, "I get it." 

"What's to get?" 

"You like her." 

"Who, Ziva?" Tony could hear the incredulousness in his own voice over McGee's barely concealed laughter. 

"Hey, don't feel bad man. I mean for what it's worth, she was speaking about you the whole time last night." 

“You know, Singh, I’ve spent the last 5 days telling everyone how bad I feel for you. Turns out you’re just as bad as him.”

“Hey, c’mon, that’s not fair. It would explain your defensiveness.”

“I’m not defensive. I’m just not talking about this with you guys.”

“OK, sure. Fine. You were the one that asked, Tony, but we don’t have to talk about it.”

Tony knew McGee and Singh were sharing a look as he focused his attention on the telescope, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. McGee’s assertion about the two of them not being able to survive without each other was still echoing in his head. He knew he’d said as much in his company before, of course, but to hear it repeated back to you years later was something different entirely.

The comment was a lot less shallow and joking than the ones usually directed towards them, and maybe that's why it was still on his mind as he placed in one of the earphones and sat back in his seat. Because it may not have been shallow in its contents, but it was so startlingly surface-level in the way it was spoken. Not that McGee hadn’t believed him, Tony was sure he did, but that he didn’t seem to quite grasp just how significant it was for Tony underneath. That no, he _couldn’t_ live without her, and even saying the words out loud had been impossible until he’d thought he was about to die.

Maybe it was that that had stood out to him about Monkton's comment: the fact that, no matter how much progress it felt as though they were making in private, those little comments from strangers stayed stagnant. Co-dependent was a new one but in other ways it was old - a simplistic, lazy word for something Tony himself found difficult to explain. 

If he was being honest, maybe it was something he’d already been sensitive to in the last couple of weeks. It seemed as though once something was pointed out in your mind, you saw it wherever you went. Little exchanges of looks between people, the woman in the coffee shop who called Ziva his wife. Inconsequential moments that neither of them blinked at usually brought into a sharp focus by the introduction of a new, private, element to their relationship.

Tony hadn’t really thought about it in that way, the day he’d met Shmeil Pinkhas. The idea that he was being let into this other side of Ziva’s life – something she didn’t share with many people, not at all in the States.

It wasn’t until Ziva had excused herself from the table and the man had taken Tony’s hand and began to talk about them as though he knew every detail of their relationship that he realised how much of themselves they showed people without ever voicing it. That maybe, while Ziva was reluctant to mix the two sides of her life, she’d been subconsciously working on the idea for a while. So much so that Shmeil could relay to Tony his belief that he could look out for Ziva when she couldn’t look out for herself, and take care of this woman who would never ask for anyone to do so, and say it with such startling sincerity that Tony was left speechless until Ziva sat back down at the table.

He’d never heard it out loud before. Not even between the two of them, where words so earnest could sometimes be difficult to come by. It had served as a stark reminder that there was a lot about their relationship that they didn’t share with other people, and the more she let him into her life the more it was becoming clearer. That so many people could interpret their relationship differently, was a glaring red sign of how much they kept to themselves.

They continued to change, but outside perception stayed the same. They were the co-workers who got mistaken for a couple. The partners who the irritating FBI agent thought were co-dependent. The friends who their colleagues thought couldn’t be without each other.

Only Tony could see with startling focus that they were so much more than that.

* * *

Ziva was getting ready to head into the office after her admirable four hours sleep before her next shift when she got the blessed call that the suspect had finally been seen heading into the building. Catching him red-handed covered in blood hadn’t been part of the take-down plan, but was a symptom of the type of perfect timing that would see him locked away until the end of his days.

Things took a while to pack up from the scene after his arrest, and Ziva had headed over to the stakeout room to find Tony, McGee, and Agent Singh practically climbing the walls in delirium at finally being free of the four walls.

Ziva would never have admitted it out loud, but a tiny part of her was going to miss it. There was something comforting about a stakeout – the monotony of the day-to-day, the stability it provided even for a brief moment. She enjoyed the opportunity it provided to spend time with her friends, even in the company of others.

The ability to share an in-joke with them, or to have something private between them that the others present wouldn’t understand was a strange positive she’d found to enjoy over the years. As much as Agent Monkton had driven her up the wall, there was a fun involved in talking about him with Tony. Sharing glances over his shoulder, or jokes whispered in each other’s ears. She’d always loved the way Tony’s face lit up right in the second before he told her something funny – the way she could see it rattling through his brain as it formulated.

She knew he’d laugh if she told him as much; that she’d miss spending time with him now it was over. They spent every day together, after all. But, even with that, Tony had invited her back to his for drinks, in spite of the near hysterical levels of sleep deprivation they were hurtling towards. He was acting a little strangely, hand in his hair and eyes glancing at the others in the room, though Ziva was sure most of it could be chalked up to tired paranoia and frustration.

* * *

It took Ziva a couple of hours to get to Tony's apartment, though he saw better than to ask where she'd been when he saw the harassed look on her face. 

"Did you know Monkton was part of the AV Club in high school? I do not even know what that is, but I heard about it in great detail as the techs took down the equipment." 

"Come in." Tony said by way of welcome as Ziva entered with an amused eye-roll. 

"Any longer in that room and I was going to start thinking I have been too harsh on you." 

"Well, we can't have that. Wine?" 

“For me?”

“Of course. Who else would it be for?”

"I am not sure - maybe you have a new fancy woman." 

"A _fancy woman_? Since when did you turn into an old British lady?” 

“Still a lot younger than you, Tony.”

“Whatever. Just take it, will you?”

Ziva took the bottle Tony was holding with a smirk and poured herself a glass, brushing his wrist as she placed it back on the table before picking it back up again when something on the label caught her eye.

"This is an expensive bottle. What are we celebrating?" 

"Um...” Tony surveyed his own glass in consideration, “-to finally freeing ourselves of the FBI." 

"Goodbye Agent Monkton. Cheers." 

They clinked glasses and both took a long swig before Tony remembered something he’d left under his countertop and bent down.

“What is it?”

"Your shirt. I was gonna bring it tonight." 

"A bag would have been nice, but I suppose this will do." Ziva took the freshly laundered shirt hanging from his fingers and folded it, somehow neatly tucking the small package into her pocket. 

"A thank you would've been nice too, but apparently we can't always get what we want." 

"Thank you." Ziva accentuated with a smile that made Tony chuckle in its amused sarcasm. There was a lightness in the air, tiredness fuelled giddiness that only fuelled their interactions. “Shall we sit?”

Tony signalled the sofas in the main room and they both moved towards them, Tony grabbing the bottle as they did so. They settled down in quiet but the silence didn’t last for long, conversation still going over in Tony’s head.

“And no, I don’t have a fancy woman. So rest assured, you don’t need to untether yourself from our little otter-hand-hold floating device.”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw it on national geographic last night. Otters hold hands when they’re asleep so they don’t get lost.”

“Well, that is sweet, but I am not sure I see the correlation.”

“Pretty co-dependent animals. Otters, I mean.”

"You did not seriously believe him, did you?" 

"McGee didn't totally shut it down." 

"McGee once wrote a book in which I had a secret photo album of pictures of you because I was so in love with you. Did you believe him then, too?"

"No. We have camera phones now." 

Ziva rolled her eyes at him with little effort, a practiced movement that fell easily into her picking a piece of lint from her shirt before looking back up to meet his eyes. He felt under scrutiny for a moment as she frowned.

“I am surprised you are so paranoid about this.”

“I’m not, really. I didn’t think anything of it until McGee hesitated. I just think it’s funny.”

“That is what Americans say when they are actually deeply bothered by something.”

“You know you’re an American now too, right? You can’t talk about us like that anymore.”

“At least I am able to confront my feelings.”

“You? Ha-” Tony cut himself off with a guffaw. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

He thought about the best way to respond – whether he should bring up the type of event they’d glossed over so easily in the past. There was a glint in Ziva’s eye as he considered the thought, and he knew then that there was always going to be things they didn’t talk about.

“Doesn’t matter. It just… I don’t know, it kinda played on my mind.”

“Why?”

"Honestly? I don’t know. I guess it just gets me that people can assume so much from so little." 

"You? The biggest gossip I know?" 

“Yeah, sure. I just – it didn’t bother me that he actually said it, I don’t think. I was just thinking about it: the way that people see things, and how they imagine whatever they want to. Things don’t change, y’know? Once someone has an idea in their head, it sticks, no matter what’s going on in front of them. So yeah, like gossiping that we do, I guess.”

“Do not drag me into that, thank you.”

“Oh, of course. You never gossip, huh?”

“Maybe this will make you think again before you do so in future.”

Tony exhaled slowly, surprised that Ziva didn’t really seem to understand what it was that was on his mind. Then, he supposed, that was a symptom of what happened when you went so long without voicing the realest of your feelings.

It didn’t bother him, what Monkton said. Or McGee, even, though it stuck in his head. It was his brain rattling over the fact that people could interpret them so differently: that the two of them, and Shmeil, could see them interacting and come away from those interactions holding such different views about how their relationship work.

It was illuminating about himself, more than it bothered him about anyone else. The fact that he could’ve played his cards so close to his chest that people like Monkton could still see things in such a simplistic way, even now when his feelings went deeper than he could’ve ever imagined. That McGee could be so blasé about something he felt so deeply, because he’d never told McGee otherwise. Even McGee, who knew him better than most people. And that it could surprise him so much when Shmeil was on the money about his feelings, that it was still on his mind even weeks later. 

"It isn’t really thar that I’m thinking about, particularly. That’s pretty standard, right? What McGee said after, that took me more by surprise. He said we can’t be without each other.” 

Ziva seemed surprised by the admission, and blinked, but it didn't frighten her. 

"He really said that?" 

"Uh huh. Matter of fact." 

"That assumption bothers you?" 

"No, it doesn't bother me. I guess it just.. surprises me, sometimes, the way people say things like that so confidently. Just simply, like it’s nothing. As if they know." 

"You said as much in front of McGee before." 

She didn’t meet his eyes as she said the words and, to be honest, it startled Tony that she said them at all. For as much as he had flickered over the line by bringing up the topic in the first place, she’d just thrown them both over it head-first.

"I was on drugs. You can't hold that against me." 

"I don't." The smile on Ziva's face was joking but gave way to something more sincere as the atmosphere charged.

The air between them was a little claustrophobic as Tony opened his mouth to reply before stopping himself, deserts and gunshots and Ziva’s bruised face flashing across his mind. He blinked, and watched her frown as she set her hands down purposefully in front of her.

“When have we ever cared what other people have to say? You and I know the truth."

"Which is...?"

"Which is... you are an important part of my life. Yes? And I think that the things that happen, the things that we do, that is for the two of us. Not for other people."

"What 'things between us'?" 

Another moment of silence passed. "There are things that have happened between us over the years that I have not spoken to other people about. That I wouldn't, because they are between us." Ziva's hand came out and her fingers drew an invisible line between them. "And other people may see some things but only you and I know the truth." 

"And sometimes even we're in the dark." Tony added, a self-deprecating attempt at humour at the often unspoken nature of their relationship. It was a little bold to admit it, but instead of growing serious Ziva chuckled. 

"I know. There are things.. conversations, moments, actions, that are hard even for us to make sense of. Neither of us could ever be accused of being easy to understand." 

“Yeah, yeah that’s true. I’ve always found you a little bit of a mystery.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. I feel like I have a read on you and then..” he whistled and caught her eye as he tilted his head, making him smile a little. “Well, then you tell me about all of these things that happen that you keep secret from everyone else.”

“That cannot surprise you Tony, I am certain there are things that have happened between us over the years that you have not told people.”

"Give me an example. What haven't you told to anyone?" 

He could see a brief flash of something akin to shock in Ziva’s eyes, and she hummed. “Well, I am sure it is the same with you.”

"Paris." The word rolled over his tongue wistfully, never-forgotten memories of a winter weekend. "Both of us lied about that." 

"We did." Ziva's response was careful and Tony knew it was a topic a little close to the next line in front of them, events having been affected so much by what had happened between them and to Ziva the summer before. "I suppose we did not want people to know the truth." 

“You think?”

“I think so. It is like I said, yes? I think sometimes things happen that it just seems natural to not go spreading around the town. I can only imagine how McGee would react, for example, if he had known we shared a bed. Endless questions and those assumptions that people make, it is not worth the time.”

Ziva was purposefully ignoring the more significant elements of what happened that evening, falling asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms after one of the only close to honest conversations they’d ever had about what happened in Somalia. Tony hated that it was still so difficult for the two of them to talk about that, but he could already see her moving forward.

"The summer Gibbs retired.” She refocused again, having taken Tony’s bait to answer the question. It seemed like she was picking at the corner of her finger as she met his eyes, and when contact was made she smiled a little. “I may have abstractly mentioned it to one or two people, but I never told anyone about how it started. That first night." 

It was funny - he'd been expecting it to be the example she gave. Something that had gone unspoken between them for years, but the distance from it and its relatively low-key nature making it a safe topic to bring up. 

"That first night.." Tony's tone was reminiscent and a little questioning, catching the way Ziva's eyes tilted upwards as she grinned co-conspiratorially. 

The truth was, he remembered every detail of how it happened. He'd shown up, uninvited, clutching a bottle of whisky and what he was sure was a pitiful expression. He'd known her for a year by that time and yet it was the first moment he felt like they'd ever really been vulnerable with each other for more than a split second. 

They were 3 drinks and many conversations about Tony's fears surrounding leadership deep before his hands had made their way to her face. 

"The things that we talked about. How we did not just..” Incredibly, she blushed at the memory of the first time they had sex that summer, “-it was not a frenzy, or out of control. Maybe it was like that other nights, but.." Ziva trailed off with consideration in her voice and a flirtatious expression that made Tony's chest tighten. 

"Yeah, maybe." 

She seemed surprised that he hadn’t taken any bait into a more charged conversation, but the heaviness of the topic was too weighted for that for him. Thoughts about how that summer ended between them; ambiguity and undercover missions and secrets.

“That is what I mean. The things we keep to ourself. Not even - well, that is not something you and I have even spoken about, actually." 

"Sorry about that. That we haven't." 

"Tony ,you do not need to..."

"You're right. Nights like that, Paris.. that's for us. I don't know if other people would understand." 

It sounded a little contrived but it was true. That night hadn't just been about sex. It hadn't even been about comfort, really. It was about intimacy and closeness and desire. The wish to be as close to someone as possible, to breathe them in and consume them if only for a moment. Allowing her to fill every crevice of his mind, writhing on top of him, and then being able to slot the memory away. 

Her features were blurry with the time of night, soft and unfocused and he resisted the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek even as she rolled it lazily on her arm.

"We should've spoken about that night when it happened. Or any of the others. Maybe.. well, maybe if we had, things would've gone differently afterwards." 

Another assumption made. Director Shepard assumed he was single and emotionally and physically unattached. He didn't correct her. He found himself dating someone else. 

“Tony….”

“What?” His voice was quiet and there was a little rhetoric in the question. She didn’t seem to quite have an end to the sentence formed, more a simple plea of him to drop the subject.

“The past is the past. There is no use for anyone to get sucked into the finer points. It does not achieve anything.”

“Maybe that’s why we don’t even talk about it between ourselves, huh?”

“Too much to punish ourselves over.” Ziva finished his thought with a wry smile, and he nodded because really there was nothing more to say.

It seemed to hit them both then, with startling clarity, what it was they’d been talking about. Vocalising times in the past they’d come close, or even crossed the line, and not spoken about it. It seemed to have almost slipped out of them and they both reacted viscerally now, Ziva leaning forward in her seat and fixing the arms of her shirt.

"It is late. We have not had a real night-time 8 hours in a while."

"I don't think I've slept 8 hours since college." 

"Now is as good a time as any to start." 

"Ziva.." The silent question hung in the air. Stay. Sleep here. 

“Tony, I..” Ziva’s voice was quiet as her expression faltered, eyes briefly making their way down his face and not quite meeting his eyes.

“You should be getting home, huh?” Tony’s own voice was practically a whisper, the final words spoken into her hair as her head tipped forward into his shoulder. He felt her smile as her hot breath hit the exposed skin of his neck.

"Hmm. Yes. We should both get some sleep before we are back to reality tomorrow." 

"Yeah. Yeah." Tony repeated to himself with a sigh as Ziva leaned backwards away from his shoulder and frowned in frustration at her own words. "I think I'm gonna have a new sleep paralysis demon haunting me after all this, that's all." 

As she smiled at him there was an acknowledgement in it of what was going on, the mutual reluctance of them both to do the right thing. She straightened her arm and checked her watch. 

"I will stay to finish my drink." 

"What about all that sleep you need?" 

"Oh, I am sure if I stayed over here we would be fast asleep immediately." 

"Scout's honour." 

"There is a reason you were never a scout, Tony." 

“I would’ve thought that was something to do with my inability to listen to authority figures.”

“Yes, maybe it was that.” Ziva hid a knowing smile behind her glass as she raised it to drink, and Tony noticed the way her eyes had glazed over a touch as they tended to do when she got tipsy.

* * *

The bottle drained as conversation continued, and innocent touches got longer and more purposeful. 

Neither Tony or Ziva tended to drink much these days, which is probably why the wine was mixing so easily with their exhaustion and making them a little less sober and a little less inhibited. 

"This really is good wine." 

"Let it never be said that Tony DiNozzo doesn't know how to treat himself." 

"The day someone stops accusing you of that will be your last day on earth." 

"Too right." Ziva pulled her legs up onto the sofa and tipped her head onto her arm where it was leaning on the backrest. She was squinting a little at him. "Not that I got much chance to enjoy myself the last couple of days." 

Ziva sighed and took another long swig of her drink. "Really, Tony, can we stop talking about him now?" 

"Fine by me. What do you wanna talk about?" 

Her squint was back, tipped head now seeming focused as she briefly bit her lip in consideration. "I am curious.." 

"You know what they say about curiosity." 

"It makes an ass out of you and me." 

Tony laughed out loud as he leaned forward and closed his hand around Ziva's glass, a couple of millimetres away from touching her skin where she held tightly onto the stem. "Alright, you're cut off." 

"I would like to see you try." Ziva's eyes focused on him caused something hot and heavy to stir in Tony's stomach, gap between them close as his hand brushed hers on the wine glass. Curious pupils made their way down his face as he sat back on his heels, a little more space between them. 

"You're curious." 

Ziva blinked and took a moment to refocus. "Yes. Yes, I am. You say that there is no particular reason why Monkton's comment bothered you, or what McGee said, but..." 

"I thought we weren't talking abo-" Tony was cut off by a hand on his arm where it rested along the back of the sofa. 

"I do not believe you. What you said about.. people being able to interpret things from such little interaction. You have been thinking about that. It was already on your mind."

Tony held her gaze, her hand warm and asking on his arm. 

"Alright, yeah. There was something." Tony straightened himself in a proper manner as he talked and Ziva echoed the movement, shuffling her knees. "It was something Shmeil said, actually."

Ziva frowned in confusion. "Shmeil? That was weeks ago, Tony."

"I know. But that night when we went to dinner, there was a moment not long before we left when you went to the bathroom. And he turned to me and he put his hand on mine and he.. he told me to look after you."

"He is protective of me like a grandfather, I would not..."

"No,he meant it. It's not the actual words themselves, it's the fact that.. it wasn't just some meaningless comment. He meant it, y'know? He’d never met me before and he could be so confident in knowing things about you and me. It's like we said - people say that stuff all the time, like Monkton did, whatever, we hardly take notice. But Shmeil, he.. I've never heard someone really mean it like that." Tony sighed. "I never realised we were so.." The word 'transparent' hung on the edge of his mouth but he didn't say it. 

Ziva was quiet for a long while, having listened to Tony stumble clumsily over his half-thoughts with a frown in her eyebrows.

"Did it upset you that he said that?” 

"No, it didn't upset me. Maybe even the opposite, I don't know." 

Tony had always been aware there would likely always be things Ziva kept quiet from him. To protect him, or herself, or to simply avoid the memories, even if she told him more than anyone else. With the exception of Shmeil, that is, but rather than any kind of jealousy Tony had felt a relief when he'd had dinner with the two of them. Confirmation that there was _someone_ Ziva felt more comfortable sharing certain aspects of her life with, that she wasn't simply bottling up things like Ari because she feared the reactions of others. 

It had surprised Tony, the ease at which his name had been mentioned once or twice that night. It was a sign of how well Shmeil knew Ziva, an access to early experiences Tony had only heard from her second-hand. It had added a little something extra to his interactions with Shmeil, too, trusting that he understood at least some of the barriers between them when few other people on the planet did.

“I think I found it kinda nice, actually. It was cool – someone understanding without either of us having to try and explain.” He realised he was floundering again, his head a little fuzzy from alcohol and tiredness and the heaviness of what he was trying to say. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"Honestly? I am not sure I do. But I believe you."

"I just think.." Ziva rubbed at the corner of her eyes and Tony trailed off as he watched her, fixing her gaze again on him intently. "I - god, I don't even know what I'm saying myself anymore. I think I'm drunk."

"Drunk and sleep deprived, yes? But I - Tony," His name grabbed his attention, and the hand on his arm burned. "Explain it to me. You mean to say that.. that Monkton does not know us, and he makes an assumption that is glib and meaningless. One we hear all the time. But Shmeil, he does not know you, but he is able to sincerely understand things beyond his comprehension." 

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda. I can't really.. well, I have nothing to conclude from that. I don't think it means anything. It's just been on my mind, what Shmeil said. I like that guy a lot." 

Ziva smiled, warm and instinctive. "I am glad that you do. I was a little nervous to introduce you." 

"Why's that?" 

"I am not sure. I think it is because the two of you represent such different parts of my life. And I can imagine you, in isolation, how I believe you would like each other. But when you try to put the two sides together you always fear they will not fit. Whether the two of you will connect or understand each other - something like that is not easy to judge, when in the past you have always held such different places in my life." 

"Maybe that's it, maybe it's just on my mind because of how much it surprised me what Shmeil said. I don't think anyone's ever come close to.. understanding like that, before. And that took me by surprise because usually it’s all like Monkton being an asshole and making a joke."

"But even Shmeil, Tony, there is so much he is not aware of. He has never seen us work together, for example." 

"And exactly, right? That's it? There's so much people don't know." Tony tipped his head back on the back of the sofa, wondering where exactly he was planning to going to conclude this train of thought. He turned to look at Ziva and saw the small smile on her face that made her eyes shine, familiar and playful. "What?"

"Maybe I do understand what you were trying to say. It is interesting, to think how you are seen through others eyes. It is like that night after Gibbs retired. You know I told you once about Mossad, how they had asked me about our relationship that summer. You are right. The way they interpreted it.. this, wayward Mossad officer sleeping with her American superior. That is never how it was in reality. Not to me.” There was a strange weight beneath the words that made Tony want to say more about what happened back then, but he bit his tongue. “Nobody ever knows the truth no matter how much you may tell them. It is impossible to ever truly understand something unless it is you and you are it."

"That's very philosophical." 

"Perhaps it is the wine. Expense encourages higher conversation." 

"Huh, that's funny. It usually just makes me throw up." 

Her laugh was short and unexpected, smile filling the room. She readjusted herself and she was pressed firmly against Tony's arm on the back of the sofa, hair tickling at his skin. 

“I told you before that I tell more to Shmeil than I do anyone else, and that is true. But there are things.. there are _still_ things that I would not tell to him about you. Like I said, there are some things that are best kept between two people. And if he is saying that and you feel it was in such strong terms then I..” Ziva drifted off again as she looked at Tony with a faraway expression, in equal terms focused and glazed. “I suppose he must have realised things for himself. Drawn conclusions.”

The clarification seemed to be to cover herself, to walk back the idea that Shmeil was right in what he’d assumed.

"They have no idea.." Tony heard the softness in his own voice, the coy way it cut through the air in a whisper. Ziva swayed a little towards him in the moment that followed, and briefly he’d thought she was about to lean in before she straightened up a little again and shook her head with a smile.

"Sometimes, Tony, you.." Her voice was dismissive and more to herself, an inward thought turned outwards.

"I what, Ziva?" 

Their gaze held, and her earnest expression melted into a grin that she hid behind.

"You take me by surprise." 

"Is that a good thing?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I like that I can keep you guessing." 

“You would be surprised how often that happens.”

“Really? I woulda thought you had me all figured out by now.”

“Perhaps I am just good at hiding it.”

“From me _and_ from everybody else?”

“Exactly.”

"Well, I'm glad that can go both ways." 

"Tony, you know that I.." Ziva's voice was sincere now and had that stern tone to it that drunk people were prone to. "I do not want you to think that way about me. I do not like thinking of myself as a mystery to you." 

"I didn't mean it like.." 

"No, I know. And I-" Her hand was on his now and he felt his breath hitch as she turned out his fingers slowly. "I am under no illusion that I am an easy person to understand. But the privacy I seek with other people, I do not want you struggling to know where my head is at too." 

After a moment Tony smiled, and her grip on his hand loosened a little.

"What?"

"No, I've just never heard you say an idiom right so confidently before." 

"Where my head is at?"

"I'm impressed." 

"Tony, I am trying to say something important here." 

"I know, I know." Tony turned her fingers over and caught them properly in his own as she half-heartedly objected to the conversation. "God knows I understand, Ziva. I think we're getting better at that, though. These last few months, I feel like we've gotten better at that." 

“We have. And _that_ is the kind of thing that other people like Joseph Monkton would not understand.”

It was rare that the ambiguity of their relationship was laid bare like this. Vocal acknowledgement of things that had happened between them, and even a question mark that they might happen again in the future. 

"Well, the two of us are in a better mood now anyway." 

The smile that broke out on Ziva’s face cut through the sincerity, and their hands released each other. "Yes. It is remarkable what fresh air and time alone with your thoughts can do." 

"Days in that room, 's enough to drive anyone crazy." 

"It was not all bad." 

"No?" 

"No. I.." Ziva trailed off, still smiling. "You will think it ridiculous after how exhausted and irritable I have been the last couple of days, but I enjoy stakeouts sometimes." 

"Really? Like when?" 

"Well, you know. I enjoy spending time with you, and I think we have fun on occasion on these things. That is not so bad." 

“I don’t know, sounds a little co-dependent of you to rely on me like that.”

Ziva laughed and leaned forward into Tony as she hit him in the arm, tired and tipsy. His own arm came up to steady her and the action charged the moment, her laughter fading as she pulled back and making her expression a little more controlled.

“Do not go there again, Tony.”

“Kidding.”

“Really, though. You are OK?”

“I’m fine, Ziva. Like I said. It’s just interesting. Which is probably why I’ve been rambling over it ever since you got here – y’know, you should really cut me off when I stop making sense.”

“You rarely make sense even when sober, Tony, nobody has the energy to keep interrupting.”

"I think we should rewind to when you were saying you enjoyed my company." 

"Well yes, I do. Compared to the other people we have had to do this stakeout with, you are a walk in the dark." 

Tony chuckled. "Ah, alright. Well if I've got to settle for being the best of a bad stakeout bunch, I guess I can take that." 

"I suppose it is nothing less than I am for you." 

"Nah, you pretty much get me by while McGee is busy doing other stuff." 

The smile that broke out on Ziva's face was mischievous and flirtatious, a young expression that made Tony's own face light up. 

"You are an asshole, Tony Dinozzo." 

"Don't hold it against me." 

Ziva's head leaned back against the back of the sofa and Tony's echoed the movement, allowing them to mirror each other as they lay their ears against the fabric and faced each other. 

Their gaze held, each staring a little mellow but totally focused. Tony felt his body start to heat under her close watch, thoughtful and ambiguous as the look was. 

“I really should get home.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They were back to speaking quietly, a whisper, as though they were trying to keep things secret even in a room with nobody else to see. Ziva’s eyes trained on him so purposefully, as though he would disappear if she looked away.

“I have had a nice time tonight. And thank you for making the rest of the week bearable, too.”

"Let's have dinner tomorrow."

He hadn’t expected the words as they came out of his mouth, a last desperate attempt to cling onto the suffocating closeness of the last few days. Dinner. Just about ambiguous enough to still toe the line.

"Dinner?" 

"Yeah. Y'know - me, you, overpriced meat. Your treat." 

"I will pay?" 

"This _is_ expensive wine." Tony held up the empty bottle and Ziva rolled her eyes.

"What is the occasion?" 

"Does there need to be one?" 

"No. I suppose I am just curious." 

"About.." 

"Is this one of those things we will not tell people about?" 

Tony’s heart was in his throat at the implication, innocent expression on her face hiding so much weight beneath it. He felt himself fighting back a smirk as she watched him intently, apparently determined to make him squirm.

"I mean, that’s up to you. Who am I to tell you what you should or shouldn’t tell other people about?” 

Ziva smiled. "Goodnight, Tony." She leaned towards him and before he could react, placed a kiss between his cheek and the corner of his mouth. 

"Yeah. Night." There was almost a question as he spoke, something waiting and expectant that made Ziva freeze for a moment or two. He could’ve sworn he still felt the weight of the tipsy kiss on his skin. “Are you gonna go?”

“Yes. I am…” Ziva trailed off again, staring at him.

“What are you waiting for?”

“I am not sure yet.” For an agonisingly short moment, her lip was between her teeth. Tony's eyes got sucked to the gesture, and he watched them quirk into a smile. 

He leaned in towards her.


End file.
